Being Blacker review – a family saga that tells the story of an entire community

4 /
5 stars
4 out of 5 stars.

Molly Dineen’s return to filming follows Blacker Dread, a Brixton record-store proprietor, for a documentary about – among other things – families, grief, home and belonging, education and gentrification

Where have you been, Molly Dineen? After a decade-long hiatus, the brilliant documentary-maker returns with a film that came about accidentally. It begins with a funeral. There is another funeral in the film, although that’s not filmed by Dineen, and there’s a wedding. Two Funerals and a Wedding it could have been called, but it’s good it wasn’t as it might have sent out the wrong kind of vibe. Being Blacker is just fine.

This first funeral is of Pauline Celestine Martin – who came by herself from Jamaica in 1962 with very little and left behind 94 grandchildren and great-grandchildren, all of whom clearly adored her. Blacker Dread – sound-system pioneer, record-store owner and pillar of the Brixton community (although a judge will later brand him a failure) – is Pauline’s son; he followed his mother to Britain aged nine. He asked Dineen, whom he knew from a student project of hers, to film the funeral of the mum he too adored.

Which she did, in her beautifully and typically intimate way, with the matriarch lying peacefully in her coffin, being fussed over and stroked by her descendants, before the lid is closed. Nice focus on detail, too, such as the floral tributes in the form of Pauline’s handbag, sewing machine, iron and Freedom Pass. But the lens lands mainly on people. And just because it’s a funeral doesn’t mean there is a ban on humour. I especially enjoyed the trip from the church to the graveyard, the cortege under the escort of Blacker’s friend Naptali, who was a getaway driver back in his bank-robber days. The procession travels unhindered through south London rush-hour traffic.

Blacker Dread: the record store owner who became Brixton’s hero

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But then events in Blacker’s life – and in the lives of the people around him – keep Dineen filming after the funeral. For three years.

For starters, Blacker is packing up and closing down his record store, the Blacker Dread Music Store on Coldharbour Lane. Because he’s going away for a while. He has been found guilty of money laundering. He allowed money – stolen, but not by him – to be stored in his account. He will be sentenced soon.

His youngest son, JJ, is away, too, with his mother, the supremely wise Maureen. They moved to go to a better school. Yeah, that old one – except JJ moved to Jamaica. In London, he was always in trouble and was told he didn’t belong in a mainstream school. In Jamaica, he’s an A student.

During filming, the tragic story of another of Blacker’s sons comes out. Solomon died in a drive-by shooting 10 years ago. The case was never solved. That’s the other funeral, Solomon’s, on a DVD that Dineen borrows. And here, giving the graveside eulogy, is his grandmother, Blacker’s mum, whose funeral Dineen has already filmed.

Blacker is sentenced to two and half years – and given that “failure” label – although he will end up serving 15 months. That’s not the end of it, though. While he’s inside, Dineen continues to film his extended family and friends. She follows Naptali’s attempts to earn an honest living as a driver, but it’s not easy for him to shake off his criminal past. Dineen goes to Jamaica to meet young JJ and see where the family came from and where some have returned to. Blacker will go back, too. He says he has never felt truly at home in Britain.

See, this has come a long way from being a film about Blacker’s mum’s funeral. It’s a big, beautiful sprawl of a film, that spans continents as well as generations. The wedding, incidentally, is Blacker’s daughter’s – postponed and relocated from Jamaica to south London so that her tagged dad can attend.

Why should we even care, about this colourful and likable, but not especially remarkable character, who isn’t even around for much of his remarkably long documentary on account of being banged up? Because it’s not just about Blacker, his children, his mother, grief and families, it’s about an entire community. It’s about immigration and generational differences, between first, second, third and fourth generations.

It’s about home and belonging, and education and gentrification (the record shop is now a posh dress shop, next door an even posher estate agent is opening up). It’s about music and culture and the erosion as well as the evolution of culture. It’s about Being Black, in Britain, in the 60s, and in 2018.